When You've Got Nothin', You've Got Nothin' to Lose
by Dani3434
Summary: Jack has spent the last eleven years protecting his boys from the horrors of the foster home that they like to call "The Refuge" but even the best efforts don't come through in the end. Mostly following Jack and Race.
1. Prologue: In Which the Boys Meet Jack

**My first real Newsie fanfic. Bear with me.**

**Summery**

**Jack has spent the last eleven years protecting his boys from the horrors of the foster home that they like to call "The Refuge" but even the best efforts don't come through in the end. Mostly following Jack and Race, but there are a few others in the prologue**

**Here are the ages**

**January 17, 2000: Race - 5, Jack - 6**

**February 17, 2004: Crutchie - 6, Race - 9, Jack - 10**

**July 30, 2005: Spot - 12, Jack - 11, Race - ****10**

**Whew!**

**Onward!**

Prologue

**Racetrack Higgins**

**17 January, 2000**

Anthony was scared, as a little five year old should be. His mother, father, and older brother died in a fire only a week ago, and so Little Anthony was thrust into the foster system with a tall, scary man named Mr. Snyder.

He was the first.

Anthony was assured that Snyder would be the ideal parent. He would watch over the boy, take care of him, act just like the father he recently lost. Either someone was misinformed or someone was out to get him, because that description of The Spider couldn't be further from the truth.

In all reality, Snyder was abusive, cold hearted, and tough as nails. He used a small five year old as his personal slave. And there was no one else in the house to save the little boy, so he was left to suffer through it all alone.

One day, Anthony took a particularly rough beating. Snyder had been out drinking again, so when he passed out on the couch, Tony snuck out and ran. He ran as far and as fast as his short, stubby legs could manage. He eventually sat down in an ally on an overturned crate and cried.

"Woah, woah, woah, kid! Whatcha doing out here, bawling your eyes out? You's planning on flooding Brooklyn or somethin'?" Anthony looked up and saw a boy, maybe a year older than himself, staring down at him.

"I can't do it anymore!" The five year old sobbed. The other boy put a hand his shoulder. Anthony flinched, which made Jack sigh and remove his hand.

"What can't you do?"

"I can't go home. Not back to my foster dad."

"You can come home with me! I'll protect you, Racetrack. I promise." Jack - the boy - swore.

"Racetrack?" Anthony asked with a smile.

"Yeah, well, you's hasn't told me yet real name yet, so I called ya Racetrack. Me and my friend nicknamed this ally Racetrack Ally because of the nearby horse race track."

"I'm Anthony Higgins," said Anthony.

"Nice to meet ya, Tony. I'm Jack Kelly."

The two boys shook hands. Anthony leaned against the wall and fell fast asleep.

"Anthony!" Jack yelled, trying to wake the little boy up. Anthony jumped, terrified that Snyder was after him. He hated being yelled at.

"M sorry!" He yelped, pulling away from Jack.

"You're fine, Anthony. I just think we should get goin'."

" Oh," he replied weakly. " I just don't like having my name yelled at me. It makes me think I'm in trouble." Anthony said, feeling the need to justify himself.

Jack nodded in understanding. "Then I won't call ya Anthony. From now on, you ain't Anthony Higgins to no one. You's Racetrack Higgins, now."

**Crutchie Morris**

**17 February, 2004**

Christopher was scared, as a little six year old should be. His father died in a car accident only a week ago, and so Little Chris was thrust into the foster system with a tall, scary man named Mr. Snyder.

He was the second.

Mr. Snyder took care of one other boy, Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins, who was eight. He disappeared every night. He thought Chris didn't notice but he did. He also never called Chris by his real name. It was always Gimpy or Crutch or something along those lines, because Christopher was run over by a truck when he was younger, damaging the nerves in his leg. They didn't take the leg, but he couldn't put weight on it.

It was one particular night that Chris had had enough of Race's nightly activities. He pretended to fall asleep, but when Race started to leave, Chris stopped him.

"I know you sneak out every night. Tell me where you go." He demanded.

Race gave him the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, practically begging Chris to drop the subject, but he was determined.

Racetrack sighed. "Promise you won't tell the Spider, first," he nodded in confirmation. "I have a friend who I go to see every night. He's in a tough foster home, too. I think our foster parents are friends or somethin'. We help clean each other's wounds." He said the last part jokingly. " How's about you come with me, huh, gimpy? He can help me find you a proper nickname."

Christopher nodded and Race helped him climb out the window.

It was about three miles to their destination, and then they had to climb in another window. Race turned on the light when they got in the room.

"Racer? Is that you?" A voice called.

"Yeah, it's me, Jackie. I brought a friend."

A boy about ten with two swollen eyes and blood covering his face and neck stepped out of the shadows. Blood was also splattered across the rest of his body and, as Chris only now realized, on the walls and floor, too. When Race saw the other boy, he rushed forward to support him.

"I gotcha, Jack. You're gonna be okay." Race helped his friend sit on the floor, leaning on the wall, then went back and helped Chris sit next to Jack.

"Jack, this is Christopher Morris."

"Nice ta meet ya, kid. The name's Jack Kelly." Jack was going to shake Chris' hand, but then realized he had blood on it.

"I need a nickname for him. He don't like having his name hollered at him. It's like with me. You're generally good at finding nicknames. Up until now, I've bean using Gimpy and Crutch."

Jack thought for a minute. " Crutch or Gimpy, huh? What if we combine the two? How about Crutchie?"

Chris nodded. "I like that. It's not as cruel as Gimpy."

Crutchie gave a pointed look at Race who smirked.

" We should make it a tradition. When there's a new kid, we get them a nickname."

" What about for Jack?" Crutchie asked.

" What if we say Cowboy? Because you're always dreamin' of Santa Fe and ridin' paleminos."

" You can call me that, but please know that I won't accept it." Jack said sarcastically.

**Spot Conlon**

**30 July, 200****5**

**A****/N not to sound nationality-ist (that's totally a word) but warning you that Spot's real name makes him sound like the stereotypical Irish dude, but it's necessary for the plot line.** **At this point, Jack's "boys" also include Specs, Finch, Romeo and Elmer.**

Samuel Patrick Timothy Conlon Jr. and his little sister Lucy Aberdeen Elizabeth Conlon were eleven and nine years old when their parents decided to stop breathing **(A/N That's a bad life choice, kids)** before that, the Conlon family was very well off, living in a large house in the rich side of Brooklyn. They lived with their father, Samuel P. T. Conlon Sr., who owned a fancy hotel chain, the Conlon Inn, which was inherited from his father. Their mother, Elizabeth Embry Conlon, had stage four pancreas cancer and wouldn't last much longer.

Samuel Conlon Sr. was exposed to mercury. He increasingly got sicker and sicker and even went a little insane. Sometimes he would just zone out. In one of his rare moments of sanity, it hit him that once he died or went completely crazy (whichever came first) his already sick wife wouldn't be able to take care of two kids by herself.

He went to a foster home in Brooklyn and talked to the owner, he made sure Samuel had a spot there, in the home, for when he was unavailable.

Two days before Samuel turned twelve, Elizabeth died. Their father sent him to the home. Samuel didn't know what happened to Lucy. All he knew was she was gone.

One day, a month after his birthday, Samuel met a boy named Race. He bumped into him on the street. Race was ten. He was on his way to meet his brother.

"Come with me. I have a feeling we'll be real tight one day." Race said. Samuel agreed, even though he knew that there was no way he would be friends with a boy like this. Race's snarky and sarcastic and hated to be told what to do. He wasn't very tough, he just didn't want to be pushed around, either. He was tall and gangly, even for a ten-year-old. Samuel was very tough, but kind of sensitive, too. Like Race, he didn't like to be pushed around, but he actually did something about it. Race just fired back a few words, but didn't try to stop it. Samuel was short and slightly muscular, even for a twelve-year-old.

When Race finally saw Jack, he collapsed into his arms, sobbing and convulsing. He didn't seem to care that Samuel was right behind him. Jack held him for a few minutes before holding him at arm's length.

"What's going on, kid?" Jack asked, confused. Race started to stutter through an answer but couldn't get out a word. Jack raised an eyebrow at Samuel, who was looking on in awe. Race seemed like the type of boy who would never cry, but he was more than willing to with his older brother.

"I'm just as lost as you," he finally said.

"It's Snyda', ain't it?" Jack guessed. Race nodded. " He's been beating you?" Another nod. "Take off your shirt."

Race began frantically shaking his head. He didn't want Jack to see his horrible scars.

"No Jackie-" Jack sighed and began taking off Race's shirt. He gasped at what he saw. Samuel moved next to Jack so he could see, too.

Across Race's chest was a red burn, parts of it was blistering. There were angry scratches on various parts of his torso, like he ran shirtless through a cactus patch.

"Racer-"

"It ain't as bad as it looks," Race cut Jack off. "Honest."

"Lay down, Racer. You're looking pale." Jack told him, once he stopped talking.

"Please don't leave me. Please." Race whimpered.

"I ain't goin' nowhere. Now you need sleep, kid." Jack sat down on the bed next to Race and began to run his fingers through the boy's sweaty blond hair. He was burning up.

"Hey Samuel, could you go get me a cold washcloth? Kid's running a fever." He gave Samuel directions to the linen closet. Jack stared down at Racetrack's face. He wasn't sweating anymore, but was shivering instead. Jack pulled a heavy quilt from the closet in his room and laid in on him. After a while, Race stopped shivering. Jack continued to brush his fingers through the sick boy's hair.

Samuel came back a few minutes later with the cloth in his hand. Jack took it eagerly and began holding it to Race's forehead. Race cried out and tried to roll away, but Jack held him firm.

"Hey Racer. It's just me. It's Jack." He whispered.

" Jack?" Race moaned back, only half conscious.

"Yeah kid. You'll be fine. Just sleep."

Race didn't put up much of a fight. He was exhausted.

Jack turned to Samuel.

"We need to find you a nickname."

"That's what Sam is."

Jack rolled his eyes. " I mean a weird nickname. Race has been Race since he was five years old. He's the first boy I took under my wing. Most of these kids don't like it when their name is shouted at them. It reminds them of their abusive foster parents. Or their abusive parents or-"

"You mean these kids are abused? Race is abused?" Samuel asked

" Yeah, Samantha. He is. I am, too. So are the rest of the boys. Like-" Jack trailed off, trying to find a way to explain it. Samuel scowled at "Samantha" "Watch this." He took a deep breath."Anthony!" He said. Race squirmed around a little and Jack called his name again. Race began moaning something along the lines of "I didn't do nothin'!" He even fought against Jack's grip on him, telling him to let him go. Jack's grip tightened, holding onto the struggling boy.

"I'm sorry, Racer. I shouldn't've done that. I'm so sorry." Jack whispered. **(A/N I've said this before on my other Newsies fanfic, but I don't think shouldn't've is a word, but I think the Newsies would say it either way.)**

Eventually, Race stopped struggling.

"So anyways, you need a new name. Not Sam or Samatha, and I can't think of anything else, so what's your full name? I'll think of something similar."

Samuel took a deep breath. He hated telling people his full name. "Samuel Patrick Timothy Conlon Jr."

"Junior? I could always go with that. I'd do Specs, because it sounds similar to SPTC, but I already got a boy named Specs. Let's do Junior-"

"Not Junior," Spot interjected.

"Okay, then how about-"

"Spot," Race whispered weakly from the bed.

"Hey, hey. You should be sleepin'. Don't worry about Sammy. I got him."

"Not Sammy. Spot Conlon."

"Why?" Samuel asked, liking Spot better than any of the names Jack had come up for him.

"Samuel Patrick Timothy. SPT."

"Spot." Jack repeated. "That's cool. You's good with Spot?"

Spot Conlon nodded. "I need your help with something, if you's willing." Jack raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Spot to continue. "Can you help me find my sister?"

**How was that? Remember, it was just the prologue, setting up how that characters met Jack. The next chapter comes in when the characters are older. High school**.


	2. In Which Race Gets Out of Doing Homework

**Happy Memorial Day to all you Americans!**

**I just rethunked (nope. That's not a word. I'm sorry.) My plotline in order for this to work.**

**Here are the new ages (oh goody!)**

**Spot - 19**

**Jack - 18**

**Race - 17**

**Lucy - 16**

**Crutchie - 14**

**So sorry. I already corrected the ages in the prologue.**

**Also: everyone seems to be making Race an Italian. Maybe it's because in the 1992 Christian Bale movie, his name is Anthony. IDK. I've also never seen it, I just know the plotline. I'll follow in suite.**

**Fun Fact #1: Racetrack**** Higgins was a real Newsie who actually helped START the newsboys strike, but then moved before it was resolved!**

**Warning: the outside references are endless!**

_..._

_Theme Song: Hell is for Children_

_by Pat Benetar_

_"They cry in the dark_

_So you can't see their tears_

_And hide in the light_

_So you can't see their fears_

_Forgive and Forget_

_All the while_

_Love and pain become one and the same_

_In the eyes of a wounded child"_

_..._

Racetrack Higgins stared at the doors in front of him in disgust. He'd been remembering that day back in July of 2005. When he met Spot Conlon, the one person he trusted above most of Jack's other boys, even though he met Spot last. Jack hadn't gained anymore boys since that day and no one thought of Spot as part their crowd. He had a gang of his own, the Brooklyn branch, and they were tough. They were the ones Manhattan looked to when they needed help.

The relationship between the Manhattan branch and the Brooklyn branch was similar to that of the Curtis gang and the Shepard gang from _The Outsiders_. They were two distinct groups and they would fight amongst themselves, but when it came down to it, they would take each other's side. Not that Race had ever read the book, even though it was required reading in his eighth grade year homeschool curriculum.

Race hated school. It made him feel confined, liked he had no rights, no freedom. It didn't help much that everyone else thought he was so stupid.

Up until last year, Snyder claimed he was homeschooling the boys, when in reality, he went to work and left them at home. Jack would take every chance he got and come by and teach them. It became increasingly clear that Race could not read. Jack didn't know how to help him, so he never learned.

Some genius finally realized that there was no way Snyder could go to work and teach the boys at the same time, so all of the boys were taken away from Snyder and split up to various homes in the same neighborhood. The majority - Race, Elmer, Albert, Finch, and Romeo - were sent to live with Wiesel and Jack, which wasn't much better than with Snyder.

Crutchie was adopted by Medda Larkin, Jack's friend that he painted backdrops in her theater for. Crutchie went to the school she taught at instead of the school the rest of the boys went to.

It became obvious that Race was illiterate. In order to help him, his English teacher recommended Wiesel sent him to Medda's school. It had a very good reading program. Wiesel agreed, but only because he would be payed to send all his kids to that school.

So it was a new school, starting Junior year of high school. Spot was a senior. Jack was held back a year, so he was a junior, too. He made Race swear up, down, and three ways to Christmas (**isn't that a great saying?)** that he would do well in school, so he was never held back. Crutchie would be in ninth grade along with Elmer and Finch. Albert was tenth grade and Romeo was eighth grade, so he was at the middle school.

Once Race forced himself into the school, it was like he was suffocating. The smell of new books reminded him of her. The loud, cheerful cafeteria conversation reminded him of her. The library reminded him of her. (so did the librarian, who she used to call by her first name, like they were best friends, which they were) Even the quiet, nerdy fifteen year old girls reminded him of her, with their gladiator sandals and t shirt dresses. He missed her.

**Homeroom**

Once Race managed to force himself into a desk, Wiesel began roll call. This was always Race's favorite time of day, because it was to one time he could insult his foster father without getting beaten to a pulp. He started with Jack, the oldest.

"Jack Kelly-"

"Ay, Weasel! You missed me?" Jack taunted. Wiesel growled in frustration, obviously irritated that he couldn't punch Jack.

"The name's Wiesel!"

"Ain't that what I said?"

"Just turn in the summer assignments and get a move on."

Jack handed him his packet. Wiesel spent a few minutes glancing over it, then said "hundred points for the wise guy! Next is Anthony Higgins!"

"How's it going, Weasel?" Race asked with a smirk

"At least call me mister!" Wiesel was getting exasperated.

"Oh, well I'll call you sweetheart if you spot me fifty points, huh?" Jack chuckled in the background " drop the papers and move it along!"

"Oh well, whatever happened to romance?" Race asked as he dropped his summer packet. He was awarded his points. Next was Crutchie.

"Christopher Morris!"

"Good morning Mr. Wiesel."

"Fifty points for Crutchie." I was a very rare thing to get one hundred points, like Jack just did.

Next up was a new kid.

"David Jacobs… someone I don't know. Huh."

David dropped his paper and sat on Jack's left. Race was always to his right, as his second in command.

"Look, kid, after school, how's about I show ya around a bit? You seem pretty lost." Jack said to David.

"I thought this class was all new kids…?" David asked.

"All but me and Crutch- Chris. All but me a that crip sitting in the front. This is our second year. Most of us is Wiesel's foster kids."

"Oh."

"So, uh, Davey, where's ya from?"

"LA. You?"

"California? What're you doin' all the way over here?"

"My sister was accepted into this prestigious arts school. So where are you from?"

" New York. 'Hattan, hence the giant "Manhattan brach" written on my backpack in permanent ink." Jack answered sarcastically. Race snickered.

"We all is from Manhattan branch,"

"What's that even mean?" Davey asked.

"The first thing you need to know about basically any school in New York is we have branches to our social groups. Here at Yancy Academy, there's the Newsies and the Pops, short for populars. Inside the Pops, there's two branches - the reluctant pops and the embracive pops. Embracive Pops include those jerks who will do literally anything a teacher asks them. People like the Delancey brothers and Carolyn Pulitzer, Pulitzer's niece.

"The Reluctant Pops are people like Katherine Pulitzer. They're people who don't care too much, they just want a chance at a normal life. People like Darcy and Bill. The Pops who are popular cuz of their parents who never even had a shot at gaining their own rep. Now the Newsies-"

"Why are they called Newsies?" Davey interrupted.

"Originally, the Pops were called the Z's, short for Zach, who was the head of the Z's. Then a new kid started another group and called it the New-Z's. Over time, the spelling changed to Newsies." Race said from his desk.

"Really?"

"Yeah. What else would the reason be?" Jack asked, playing along with Race. "Anyway, the Newsies split into branches based off where you're from. We's the 'Hatten boys. Occasionally, a fight will break out amount us and we take sides. It's usually Queens, Woodside, Flushing, Richmond, and The Bronx against Brooklyn, Midtown, and Manhattan. We win because Brooklyn is the toughest and Manhattan is the ones stupidly brave enough to take the risks. The biggest challenge, though, is when we fight the Pops."

"Why?"

"Because they have the Principal's daughter and we don't."

**Period 1**

Standing outside the school building earlier that morning was nothing compared to standing outside the English classroom. English had always been Race's worst subject. Maybe it was because he was Italian and English was his mother's second language (he learned both English and Italian before he was four) Maybe it was because he was diagnosed with dyslexia a few years back. But recently, the most likely reason seemed to be because reading reminded him of her. That girl loved to read. Race never saw her without a book within five feet of her. She always had that new book smell. Like when you walk into a bookstore and can smell the pages. Race never liked that scent until met her. She was the only one, besides Jack, who actually believed he could learn how to read well. She was wrong, but the encouragement was nice.

Race felt someone push him in the classroom and guide him into a desk. Of course it was Jack.

"You thinkin' about her again, Racer?" He asked softly. Racetrack grunted in response. "I think about her a lot, too. I know I didn't know her as much as you did, but I miss her. We never even had time to give her a proper nickname."

"Nah. She didn't need it. Her real name fit her just fine." Race replied. Jack simply sighed and sat down behind him. The English teacher, Mrs. Jones, walked in. This was Mrs. Jones' third year teaching. Jack had reported that she was cool and nice and never called on you to read unless you wanted to.

After she briefly introduced herself, she passed out the books.

"This year, your reading list includes _Romeo and Juliet, The Great Gatsby, The Crucible and To Kill a Mockingbird._ I also have four other books that you need to read at your own pace throughout the year. You must read a thousand pages worth of independent reading, not including the eight required books-" Mrs. Jones stopped talking. "Anthony, are you all right?"

Race stood up and walked out of the classroom, leaving everything except for the blue hoodie that he had laid on the back of his chair.

"Racer?" Jack ran to the door after him. Race turned around in the hallway after hearing his brother's voice, but kept walking. Jack walked back inside the classroom.

"Ay, Jones, can I talk to you in private?" He asks Mrs. Jones who was sitting on a desk in the front of the classroom, holding _Romeo and Juliet_ in one hand and a white board marker in the other. She nodded and dropped the supplies.

"Just give me one second," she said to the class. "Don't set the room on fire or anything."

When Jack and his teacher were outside the classroom, she looked at him with concern.

"Is he okay, Jack?"

"He'll be fine. There's a few things you should know about Tony. For one, don't call him Anthony to his face. All of my friends have a rough past and their names bring up bad memories. Anthony is Racetrack or just Race. Elmer and Albert are their real names because they aren't as skittish as the rest of my boys. Liam is Romeo and Chris is Crutchie. Oh, and Petro is Finch. So you may want to watch that." Mrs. Jones nodded, signalling Jack to continue. "Race has ADHD and dyslexia as well as minor dyscalculia. He can't read, but refuses to tell his teachers that. That's why he was sent here, we were told it had a good English program."

"Could he listen to audiobooks instead of reading the books? These are all classics, so there's got to be an audiobook for them." Mrs. Jones asked. Jack nodded.

"He could, but that's where the ADHD comes into play. He can't sit still long enough to listen to it."

"I had a student last year, a sixth grader, who had the same problem. ADHD and dyslexia. I think he used LEGOS a lot. He would build while listening. It seemed to help."

"I'll tell him about that, then. Third point: about six months ago, he lost someone who was really important to him. Literally everything reminds him of her. Especially books. This girl really loved books, so he's a little sensitive about even reading a book. And what's even worse is she really loved Shakespeare, and the one you put on the reading list was one of her favorites."

"Okay, then instead of _Romeo and Juliet_, would he prefer to read _Julius Caesar_? That one's on the eighth grade reading list, so I could easily get the material for him." Mrs. Jones said, gesturing to the classroom.

"Yeah… that was another one of her favorites. She actually gave him a copy for his birthday a few years back and currently, it's sitting in a box under his bed. He refuses to look at it."

"Then I can either give him _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ or _Macbeth_. The first one is on the seventh grade list and the latter is on the twelfth grade list."

"Let's do Midsummer. The girl already read him _Macbeth_ when he was sick." Jack resolved. "I'm going to go after Racer?" He phrased it as a question, asking permission.

"Go for it." Mrs. Jones went back inside her classroom as Jack ran in the direction of the bathroom, where he figured Race would be hiding.

Race was sitting in the bathroom, leaning against the wall underneath a paper towel dispenser when the door opened. He glanced up and saw Spot Conlon. He was expecting Jack.

"What's up, Race?" Spot asked. It wasn't every day you found your friend curled up against the wall in the bathroom, holding a blue hoodie in his hands.

"I hate English." He muttered.

"Yeah, right. You're just sulking about a certain brown-eyed chick who you can't see anymore and, hey, I don't blame ya. I miss her just as much." Spot snorted.

"How do you stand it? Knowing that you could've done something about it. Knowing that I could've done something about it. Jack even could've prevented it."

Spot sat down next to Race and Race leaned his head against his friend's shoulder.

"News flash: no one could've done anything about it. Her death was unavoidable. And no, I can't stand it. Every morning I stand in front of the mirror and say her name three times. And you know, I think I'm getting better. It's been six months. We can't go on sulking forever. Just try it. Say her name just once."

Race opened his mouth but then shook his head and stormed out of the bathroom. He left his hoodie. Spot picked it up and heard the crinkling sound of paper. He found a folded paper in the pocket and unfolded it.

The drawing was obviously Jack's work. No one else could draw like that. It definitely explained why Race was close to tears. The paper was the copyright page of Julius Caesar. Probably the one that was gifted to him. And it was a drawing of her. Under it, in her handwriting, it said

_To Cigar Boy: my Tony, my Racer. I'll miss you. See you on the other side.__Love,__Lake_


	3. In Which Jack Messes Up

**This chapter is a little short, but I was really excited to post it, so sorry.**

I** have a quick story that I need to share. It doesn't relate to Newsies too much.**

I** was scrolling through the pictures on my phone when I found the ones from a Waitress meet and greet. My brother, ZB, is looking over my shoulder at the one of Jeremy Jordan and says "hey, he's hot." ZB is 100% straight, btw, and even makes the 'its 2019. You can be whatever you want to be' jokes. Then he notices that Jeremy is wearing a Dallas Cowboys hat and decides that he's not hot anymore (?) because he's football team-ist****That's it. Literally doesn't relate****...**

_"Whatcha reading?" Race leaned over the girl's shoulder._

_"A Midsummer Night's Dream. It Shakespeare."_

_"Isn't that the one with the fairies and love triangle?" He asked. She nodded. "Eh. The kiss to kill ratio is way off."_

_"Just because you don't like romance doesn't give you the right to take the joy out of it for me."_

_"Chill, Lake. I'm sorry, okay?" He leaned down and kissed her. She pushed him off.__"Racetrack Higgins! You have got to give me a moment to smoulder! I can't forgive you that quickly or it will ruin my reputation."_

_Race chuckled "yeah right, Abi. Like you actually care about your reputation."__"Fine," Lake huffed. " I'm worried one of our brothers will walk in on us."_

_" Ah, don't worry about Jackie. He'll beat on me but then reveal that he's actually really proud. As for your brother, he likes me well enough. I'll be fine."_

_"And Crutchie?"_

_"Um…" For once in his life, Race had nothing to say.__…_

"This is the fourth time that Mr. Kelly has been sent to my office since the beginning of the year and the third for Mr. Higgins. Clearly something is wrong with those boys." Pulitzer said to the four teenagers in front of him.

"Mr. Pulitzer, if I may," Hannah, the secretary began. "Lots of boys get sent to the Principal's office. I can't name one, besides these three, that haven't."

"Hannah, it's the second week of school." Said Pulitzer. "So, I'm asking the four of you to keep him in line."

"It's easier said than done, Mr. Pulitzer," Davey, the new boy said. "He really is a good kid, but he doesn't like being told what to do."

"You got that right." Oscar Delancey.

"That kid beat me and Oscar up with nothing other than that cripple's crutch." Morris Delancey. The fourth student, the only girl, stifled a laugh. She had never liked the Delanceys too much, but she kind of admired Jack Kelly and Anthony Higgins. They were like Travis and Connor Stoll or Fred and George Weasley. Always getting into trouble, but in the end did the right thing. She liked that about them.

"Excuse me, Mr. Pulitzer," Hannah re-entered the room. "The boy, Jack Kelly, is here. He's asking to see you."

Pulitzer chuckled slightly and looked around at the four kids. The Delanceys looked confused. The other two were smiling slightly. "Ask and you shall be received."

Hannah walked back out of the room and in came Jack, smiling. Who smiles at the principal's office? Davey thought.

"Good morning boys," he gave a low, mocking bow. "And girl."

"And which Jack Kelly is this? The charismatic defender of the weak or the petty thief and escaped convict?" Pulitzer asked, standing up. Jack smirked. "Which gives us more in common?"

The Delanceys scowled.

"So, Mr. Pulitzer, I just wanted to let you know that a couple hundred of your students are rallying against you-"

"Like who?" Jack was cut off. He looked him in the eye with a steady gaze, letting Pulitzer know that he was one hundred percent serious. "Like your niece." Pulitzer scoffed. "Like your niece, Carolyn, as well as Darcy Greeley, William Hearst Jr., and we ain't gonna forget your own daughter, Miss Katherine Pulitzer." When he said the last name, he locked eyes with the single girl in the room, who was, in fact, Katherine herself. Her smile widened. The reason she was helping with the rally was to make her father angry and, so far, it was working.

"Why, pray tell, are these kids rallying against me?" Pulitzer asked, refusing to even look at his daughter. Jack chuckled.

"Ask them."

Jack left the office. Pulitzer immediately dismissed the Delanceys and Davey, but Katherine had to stay.

"Anthony! A word?" Race turned back to the English room and saw Mrs. Jones leaning against the doorframe. Race gulped and followed her back inside. She sat down at her desk and he dragged a chair up to sit opposite of her. "I spoke with your brother, Jack Kelly," she started. "He told me that you're dyslexic. I have a solution for you regarding your reading list. Try getting audiobooks and listening to them while playing with LEGOS. One of my sixth grade students last year did that." Race nodded and was about to leave. "Another thing: I know that I'm the teacher of probably your least favorite subject, but I'm here for you. Jack also told me that you lost someone very important to you recently. I don't know the story behind that, but I want to help you in any way I can."

Race gave his teacher his signature glare for a good thirty seconds before speaking.

"I don't know what Jack was thinking, telling you so much about me, but I want to tell you the three rules of being a Newsie. Maybe they'll help you understand me better.

"Number one: keep your nose out of other people's business. If they want you to know, they'll tell you. Number two: lie when necessary. It doesn't matter what you were taught growing up. If lying helps you survive, so be it. Number three: no one is as important as your siblings. No one. If someone comes between you and your brothers, they must be removed. I know this is harsh, but please just leave me alone." Race stormed out of the room. Mrs. Jones leaned back in her chair and sighed. She just wanted to help the kids. He was hurting and needed an adult he could trust. Jack doesn't count.

For the second time that week, Race was back at the Wiesel's apartment before Jack and the other boys. He hid in their room, which reminded him way too much of the Refuge. It was a small, square room with a box fan in one corner, a floor lamp in another, the door in the third, and the closet in the last. There were two bunk beds, pushed up against opposite walls. There was a cot opposite the door and a sleeping bag on the floor, for Elmer, who insisted on sleeping on the floor, rather than getting another bed.

When Race entered the room, he pulled off his sweatshirt and laid down on the cot. Jack's bed. And he cried. To say Racetrack Higgins cried a lot would be like saying you were mugged. Something that rarely happens, but makes you wonder what the heck is going on here? It makes you want to cry, too.

When the door opened, Race didn't react. Until he heard the voice

"What is wrong with you, Racetrack?" Race looked up and saw Crutchie standing in the doorway.

"Oh. It's you. Please go away and come back later. I'm feelin' a bit grumpy."

Crutchie frowned. Never in his life had his brother spoken to him like that.

"Are ya skipping school?" He asked.

"Maybe."

"Racer-"

"No! You got no room to comment! You skipped forty days back when you was in seventh grade, so I don't want to hear it!" Race snapped.

"Racetrack!" Race turned and saw Jack standing behind Crutchie. "Since when did you yell at your little bruddas?"

Race sighed. "Stay outta this, Jack. This is between me and Crutchie."

"No, it ain't. You haven't been the same since she died, and it needs to stop now."

"No it don't. I have the right to mourn her."

"You don't have the right to mourn her like this!"

"And you don't have the right to spill my secrets to my teachers!"

Jack took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. " Racer-"

"No, Jack. Just stop talking for once. I got every right to cry. I got every right to skip out of school every now and then. I got every right to argue with my friends. You know why? Because the only girl I've ever loved died in my arms, just six months ago."

"Exactly! It's been six months! Yes, you're sad, but you need to lighten up a bit, right?"

"No-"

"Anthony Higgins, will you please shut up?" Jack yelled.

And Race remembered.

_Voices.__Yelling. Screaming. Fighting._

The_ smell of cigars._

The_ sound of flesh hitting flesh._

Of_ the man's hand hitting the boy's cheek._

The_ taste of blood._

The_ sound of a man and a woman yelling at each other. Screaming at each other._

Fighting_ with each other._

A_ little boy picking up his little brother and carrying him upstairs, into the bedroom, where they always hid in the closet._

Hours_ of screaming._

His_ mother coming up to find them.__Holding them_

_Kissing their heads._

Apologizing_ to them_

_"It won't happen again. _Mi dispiace, Bambino."

_Repeated the next day_

_"Anthony!" "Tony!" "Higgins!" "Junior!" "_Monello!" "Bambino_," Anthony, Anthony, Anthony._

_Fire._

The_ roof caving in._

The_ screams._

The_ sirens._

_"I love you, my _Bambino_"_

_Hospital._

Social_ worker._

_Abuse._

Running_. Running. Running. Tears.__"_

_Are you planning on flooding Brooklyn?"_

Race looked up at Jack with tear-filled eyes.

"Anthony Higgins died in a house fire thirteen years ago. I don't answer to that name anymore. You, of all people, should know this."

"Wait… Race, I's sorry!" Jack tried calling after his brother, but it was too late. He was already outside, running through the streets of New York. "I'm goin' after him."

"Jackie… maybe you should give him some time to cool off." Crutchie tried to reason.

"Not a chance. I messed this up real bad, so I aim to fix it."

**Italian translations:**

**Mi dispiace, Bambino - I'm sorry, baby**

**Bambino - baby**

**Monello - brat**

**Shout outs:****Hawkmaid**

**Everything'sGoldenGianna09**

**Thanks so much! I love you two so much right now!**


	4. In Which They Relive Their Nightmares

**Hey guys! The flashback at the beginning is a true story that happened on Wednesday. I am one of these characters. If you can guess who, I'll award you fifty points! I just changed the characters names and ages, cuz I'm not a middle schooler, but I feel like eighth grade was my most emotional year, so it fits the best.**

Not** too proud of this chapter. It's also 400 some words too short, in my opinion. Sorry.**

I'm** also officially off school, not sure if that will make me update more or less. I also have officially started putting "story time" at the end of each chapter, with the weirdest thing that happened to me will be written. So y'all can learn more about me. Also because I need to share it with someone.**

**Song- Ride, Twenty-One Pilots**

**I'd die for you**

**That's easy to say**

**We have a list of people that we would take**

**A bullet for them**

**A bullet for you**

**A bullet for everybody in this room**

**...**

_Race started shaking as the memories flashed through his head._

_Monello._

_Bambino._

_Delusione._

Inutili_._

_"Race, are you okay?" The boy asked his classmate, who simply nodded and looked down at his hands, wondering where his brother went._

_"Racetrack, are you okay?" Asked his other classmate, as he approached. Race nodded again and began digging his nails into his palms._

_"Tony, you all right, bud?" Asked one of the teachers as they approached. When Race nodded for the third time, the teacher went back to the group he was in charge of._

_"Give him some space, guys!" Race internally groaned when he heard the voice of Hanna, who was literally the most irritating eighth grader to ever walk the earth. "He obviously doesn't like the attention. Just leave him alone, okay?" She spoke forcefully. Race's friend rolled his eyes before walking away. The others followed him. Race almost called him back. Hanna put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to tense up._

_"So, how are you?" She asked. Race glared.__"Ain't it obvious?"_

_"Oh, yeah. I guess it is." She was quiet for a minute, which Race was grateful for. "Did you know my Great Aunt has a peach orchard in California? And a barn. Joe Pave had his first wedding there. He's my cousin, you know."_

_"Yes, you've told me." At least a billion other times, Race added in his head. Joe Pave wasn't even a celebrity or anything. He was just a senior at their school. An athletic senior, but no one special._

Hanna_ perched herself on the edge of the dock, right next to Race. Her skirt hiked up, revealing way to much of her thigh. Race suspected that was intentional. She leaned on her left arm, which made her way closer to Race then personal space allowed. When she started rubbing his shoulders, he had enough.__"Excuse me, Hanna. I need to use the bathroom."_

_"Oh. Okay. Don't be long!"__Race ran off._

After_ a few minutes of leaning over the sink, Jack entered.__"Hey there, Race. Sorry I couldn't find ya sooner. You okay?"_

_" I'm fine."_

_" No, ya ain't."_

_" You're right." Race was planning on leaving it there, but Jack raised an eyebrow, beckoning for him to continue. "First, I was having flashbacks to my family before the boys, then Hanna Pave found me. She wouldn't leave me alone. She was rubbing my shoulders and sitting right up against me and flirting. I… I didn't like it, Jack."__Jack cursed under his breath. "I'm sorry, kid. No one here likes Hanna too much, but she just took things way too far. I'm sure someone will keep her away when I'm not around."_

_But Race was shaking his head. "She scares them, Jack! She told them that I needed space and they all left me! Even Mr. Kloppman!"_

_Jack wrapped his little brother in a hug. " We can go home tomorrow, remember? And Mr. Kloppman said he would take us home, because the bus is too small. You only have to deal with her a little while longer." Race nodded.__" You wanna go kayaking with me? I doubt Hanna will follow you there."_

_" Yeah. Sure. And you know she wouldn't follow, because she would say kayaking in the bay is so uncool. I bet she's kayaked on the ocean floor with Joe Pave near her aunt's peach orchard in California while her mom was buying her a birthday present from Virginia." Race said, mocking Hanna. Jack laughed._

_"That's something she would say. I'm goin' ta go get changed. Meet ya on the dock."_

Race_ ran outside and sat on the dock._

Hanna_ eventually found him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, but Race pushed her off. Jack wasn't there to save him. But someone else was._

_"Leave him alone, Hanna," said one of the seventh grade girls that Race never paid any attention to. She was wearing gladiator sandals and a blue t shirt dress. Her hair was in a pencil bun and her sunglasses were up on the top of her head.__"You can't tell me what to do. This is my year. I'm eighth grade. You aren't." Hanna said pushing the younger girl away._

_"Maybe so, but he obviously needs some space. Isn't that what you said?"_

_"Yeah, but he doesn't mind my company. We're both struggling. And besides, I bet my problems are worse than his."_

_The other girl raised an eyebrow at her. "Whether you drown in twelve feet of water or in twenty, you're still just as dead."_

_Race cracked a small smile._

Hanna_ laughed. "I literally said that phrase yesterday. You can't use it against me. I already know it."_

_The other girl smiled. " I know."_

_Race remembered Hanna saying that phrase. She had been sucking up to the English teacher. She had said "you shouldn't compare your problems with someone else's, because whether you drown in twelve feet of water or twenty, you're still just as dead."_

_Hanna walked away in a huff. Race smiled at the girl.__" Are you alright?" She asked._

_"I'm fine. You really didn't have to do that."_

_"But I did. My conscience was bothering me. No one wants to be left alone with Hanna. What's your name?"_

_"... Racetrack Higgins." He said hesitantly._

_"I'm Lake."_

_"You got a last name?"_

_"Oh, Lake is a nickname my brother gave to me. It's a combination of all of my name's - first, middle, and last."_

_Maybe, just maybe, he had a shot of making a real friend for once.__…_

...

"Let me go!" Jack heard the scream and his breath caught in his throat. He knew that voice. It was Race. He silently crept into the alley and almost screamed. It was the Spider. Jack thought they were done with him for good. Apparently not.

"I don't think so. Someone has to pay for this." Ex-Warden Snyder said

" Pay for what?"

" Pay for all the trouble you kids caused me. So I think I'll take you with me."

" Take me where?" Race asked, trying in vain to push Snyder away from him.

"To the Refuge."

Jack couldn't take it anymore. He jumped into Snyder's line of vision.

"Stop! Leave him alone!"

"Jack Kelly!" The Spider grinned an evil grin. "I thought I'd never see you again." Snyder hated Jack almost as much as he hated his ex-foster children, because he was the one who was always found in their bedroom, holding the sobbing children, comforting them. He was also the one that he used to help Wiesel soak when he was especially bad. Which, according to Wiesel, was every other day. He was the one who told the authorities that there was no way possible that he could go to work and teach the children, giving them the means to investigate and therefore ruining his life. Jack took great joy out of that last one.

Jack thought that maybe he could hold off Snyder while Race ran. He didn't notice the three men with him.

"Get him." Snyder hissed as he held onto the struggling boy. Within seconds, the three men had Jack held firmly between them, bruised and bloodied. Snyder grinned. His two least favorite people, stuck with him at the same time.

...

When Jack woke, he was in a small room, a closet. Every once in a while, he would here nine soft taps. They weren't ordinary taps. They were Morse code. Jack had taught Race just a few phrases. _SOS, Jack, Race, help, yes, no_, and _I'm OK._ He immediately recognized this one as _SOS_. He assumed it was Race, so he tapped his name, _Jack_. Race replied with his own name. Jack felt relief flood through him. It wasn't the ideal situation, being locked in the Refuge and all, but at least he knew where his brother was. Just one room away. What he heard next made his heart stop. _Help_. Race needed help and Jack couldn't do anything about it.

...

When Race came to, he felt like he was on fire. Everything hurt. His head, his arms, his legs. Everything. All he wanted to do was go home and see Jack. But then he remembered where Jack was. He was here, in the Refuge alongside him. And it was his fault. That was enough to cause the tears to begin falling. Then he remembered the last things he had said to his brother. He basically told him that he didn't care what he had to say before running out of the house like a scared five-year-old.

His head finally cleared up enough for him to think clearly. Jack had taught him what to do when he needed help. Morse code. Tap _SOS_ until someone hears you and decides to come to your rescue. So he began his tapping: … -- ... _SOS_, just like Jack said. He did it every minute or so, a total of nine times before he heard the taps coming from the room next door. Someone was trying to communicate with him. **(An:be prepared for the song references. They're coming and most of them are unintentional**) They tapped the same word several times. _Jack_. Jack was on the other side of the door. He was only one call away. If only Race could be lying in his arms, rather than lying on the floor of the closet. Smell his comforting scent of paper and wood rather than blood that was covering the floor, the walls, and Racetrack himself. See Jack's warm smile rather than complete darkness. Hear his voice rather than the Spider moving around, right near the closet door- Race's brain didn't work fast enough to realize why Snyder would be near the door until it swung open and Race saw the man, grinning down at him evilly. It would be a very long night.

**Translations:**

**Monello - brat**

**Bambino - baby**

**Delusione - disappointment**

**Inutili - useless/unnecessary**

**Whew! That chapter was way too hard to write. I wanted to post it about a week ago, but life got in the way, as it tends to do.**

STORY** TIME!****I was at my brother's not-so-sweet sixteenth birthday party, talking with my friend, GG. We got on the topic of friend drama and she mentioned that her best friend's last name was Higgins. I asked her if she ever called him Racetrack, she said no, but now I only refer to him as Racetrack, Higgins, or Anthony. She is bringing him to our youth group, so I'm super pumped to meet him. This will be a problem, however, considering my nickname is already Race. Oh well.**


	5. In Which Race and Jack Have Visitors

**I'm back!**

**I'm disappointed in the lack of reviews. What happened, friends? Too bad. Just please make sure to review for this chapter. It keeps me going.**

**Does anyone have any guesses about who Lake is and what's up with her? Besides the fact that she's dead. That's already been confirmed.**

**Song: Holding Onto You by Twenty-One Pilots**

**_Fight it, take the pain, ignite it_**

**_Tie a noose around your mind_**

**_Loose enough to breath fine and tie it_**

**_To a tree tell it, you belong to me, this ain't a noose_**

**_This is a leash and I have news for you_**

**_You must obey me_**

_…_

_"Racer!" Race turned and saw Spot Conlon running up to him. "It's… it's Lake. She's real sick. In the hospital. We don't know what's wrong with her."_

_Race's heart stopped. "I'm coming." He grabbed his blue hoodie and Jack's car keys, which he tossed to Spot. "Can you drive?"_

_Spot gave him a look "I'm eighteen, ya moron."_

_..._

By the third day, Davey began to worry. He hadn't seen Jack for three days. At first, he simply assumed he was sick, but then he talked to some of the other boys - Albert, Elmer, Finch, Romeo, and Crutchie. None of them had seen him. Crutchie said that Jack got in a fight with Race and ran after him when things got intense, but he never returned.

It had been three days.

So he stormed into the Principal's office.

"Mr. Pulitzer," he started once he was invited inside. "I would like to speak to you regarding the care your school provides for its children."

Mr. Pulitzer looked up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jacobs. I don't quite know what you're referencing."

"I'm talking about how two of your students disappeared and you don't care. They haven't even been marked absent!" He said, gesturing to the chart on Pulitzer's desk. Mr. Pulitzer smiled.

"Of course not. Don't you watch the news?"

Davey shook his head. He didn't like the news. Too negative and violent.

"Both Mr. Kelly and Mr. Higgins have recently been transferred."

"You mean… away from Mr. Wiesel?"

"Yes. William Snyder, their ex foster father was recently given permission to open a special orphanage for children who need a little extra help. I recommended both Anthony and Jack immediately. As you know, they are both troubled and needed an extra push."

"But wasn't Anthony taken away from Mr. Snyder because he wasn't schooling them?"

Mr. Pulitzer's smile widened, if that was possible. "You don't attend school while in the Refuge. It's been compared to a juvenile jail."

Davey stormed out of the office. On his way to his class, he ran into Katherine Pulitzer.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"David, were you in the Principal's office?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't in trouble."

"Then what were you doing?"

Davey looked at her for a long while before answering. "Have you heard of the Refuge?"

"Yeah. It's that boy's home that was recently opened, right?" She asked, slightly concerned. Was David being sent there? No, she chided herself. Davey was the New York Academy poster child. Even if he wasn't from New York.

"Right. Well," he hesitated just long enough for Katherine's fear to grow. "Jack Kelly and Anthony Higgins were sent there recently."

Katherine gasped. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Your father ordered their 'arrest' himself."

…

"So," Mr. Snyder began as he settled into his chair across from Race. " What's your name?"

"Did ya forget me already, Mr. Snyder? I thought you loved me." Race sniffled and pretended to cry.

"Cut the crap and answer the questions."

"Racetrack Higgins," Race answered, but then smiled when he saw Snyder put down 'Anthony Higgins' instead. "Age?"

"Seventeen."

"Birthday?"

"I ain't got no clue." He again smiled when Snyder wrote June 15, the day Jack used for Race since no one knew his real birthday. June 15 was the closest Jack could get to the middle of the year without having to do too much math.

"Parents names?"

Race was silent. This was one question he wouldn't answer.

"Did ya hear me, Higgins?"

"I heard ya. I just chose to ignore you."

"Answer the question. Or should I put you back in the closet for a few more hours?" Snyder threatened, leaning across the desk.

Race gulped. "I just wanna see Jack."

Snyder glared at the blond boy before calling out "Wallace!" A guard, presumably Wallace, appeared. "Get me Jack Kelly. He should be in the left closet." Wallace disappeared and then reappeared a few minutes later with Jack in tow. He dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. Racetrack jumped up from his seat and rushed over to his brother, who was groaning in pain.

"Jackie!" He cried, holding onto him. Jack grinned up at him and gripped his hand.

"Now will you please cooperate?" Snyder asked, exasperated.

"I don't see why I should. You already know enough about me." Race answered. Jack sent him a warning glare.

"That's fine. Wallace, please put these boys in room three."

Wallace dragged them away, but both boys refused to loosen their hold on each other.

…

Mr. Snyder looked up as a teenage boy entered the room with a girl and two boys behind him.

"Excuse me, sir. When are visiting hours?" He asked in an overly sweet voice.

"Visiting hours? I'm not running a prison, I'm running a group home!"

The boy backed up slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. It's just that the refuge has been compared to a jail."

Mr. Snyder sighed. "Who are you here to see?"

"Jack Kelly and Anthony Higgins." Mr. Snyder frowned.

"All of you?" They all nodded. Snyder stood up and walked out of his office. He called up the stairs, "Higgins! Kelly! Get down here!"

Two boys forced their way down the stairs taking slow, painful steps. Other than Race's right dimple and Jack's dark brown eyes, they were unrecognizable. They were covered in dirt, sweat, and blood. Race had tear tracks etched through his dirty face. Jack was leaning heavily on him, taking weight off his left knee, which was swollen. Finally, Race broke the silence.

"Crutchie," he choked out, noticing the boy with the crutch, standing behind Davey. He limped forward and Race wrapped his arms around his little brother. Jack noticed the other boy, standing back, slightly hidden in the shadows.

"Spot." He said, letting go of Race and steadying himself on his good leg. Spot Conlon stepped closer to Jack and clapped him on the back, trying to maintain his composure, but Jack wasn't having any of it. He pulled the older boy into a hug. Then Spot started whispering in his ear.

"If you get the chance, get outta here. Leave Racer. You can't do much for him stuck inside the prison, now can ya?"

Jack jerked away from his friend. " Leave Racer? You know he would die here on his-"

"Spot!" Race sobbed, collapsing into the older boy's arms as he released Crutchie. Jack wrapped his arms around all three of his friends and for a moment, they almost forgot all about Mr. Snyder and the Refuge and Mr. Pulitzer. They even forgot that Katherine and Davey were watching their interaction with a look of horror in their eyes. They had no idea just how difficult these boys' lives were or just how awful the Refuge was.

Katherine, Davey, Crutchie, and Spot left about ten minutes later, promising to come back later. The minute they left, Snyder ordered them to be thrown back into room three.

…

Katherine sat down at her computer. If she could write this correctly, she could improve her life and save several others. Those boys were counting on her - the poor things - she needed this to be perfect.

She was writing a news story on The Refuge. She was planning on submitting it to the school paper. After what Katherine just saw, she knew the world needed to hear about it, starting with the high schools. The house that was nicknamed the Refuge was basically set up as a prison. There were two floors, with a courtyard in the middle. The first floor had a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a dining room, which was only a large table with ten chairs around it. Upstairs had a master bedroom, which was Snyder's and then there were seven other bedrooms and a bathroom. The seven bedrooms were all the same. They had three cots, only a few inches away from each other. According to Jack, everyone pushed them together in the center when they went to sleep. A lot of the children at the Refuge had nightmares and liked to have someone near them while they slept, to be there for them once they woke up. Katherine wouldn't be surprised if there were cockroaches on the walls and bed bugs living in the mattresses. Actually, she had no doubt that there were bed bugs in at least some of the mattresses.

From what she'd seen of the rest of the boys, Jack was already designated leader of the twenty boys that lived in the house. Jack was determined to protect the eighteen strangers, which made them trust him and Race enough to put them at the top of the food chain. No matter how much he denied it, he was a natural leader. But even a leader needs help.

…

Crutchie sat down on his bed at Wiesel's house and held back a sob. Jack and Race had looked so messed up.

When it was time to go home, Spot drove Crutchie back to his home and offered him a box of tissues before he left again. He said he wanted to talk to Katherine about her article, so she didn't release anything the boys didn't want the school to know about. Crutchie knew it would be hard enough for Jack having an article published about him, making him seem weak. No one wanted his secrets to come out, too.

**If I ever disappear for that long again, someone PM me and yell at me. Or at least be the slightest bit concerned.**


	6. In Which Jack Hides from his Family

My dog ate my notes for this story, so I can't remember half the plot. I fear this fanfic may be cut off short. I apologise.

Shout out to: Everything'sGoldenGianna09.

It had been two weeks since they were taken to the Refuge when the man showed up. He didn't ring the doorbell. He just charged into Mr. Snyder's office and threw the door open. The office, at that time, was empty. Jack could hear his footsteps as he stomped up the stairs. They were heavy, so Jack figured out they were a man's. Jack and Race had recently been transferred to a bedroom, which they shared with one other boy. A man poked his head into each of the rooms, looking for someone. He stopped at room three.

"Jack!" He exclaimed. Jack looked up from his spot on his bed. Race and Jack were having a nice talk and for once, they had both been in positive moods. The man started whimpering a little bit, out of excitement. Race thought the man might explode Jack rolled off the bed. "Who are you?"

"Have you seen Mr. Snyder?" The man asked, ignoring the question. Jack looked at him suspiciously. Who was this guy and how did he know his name? And what was wrong with him?

"He took one of the kids to the basement. I would knock before entering." Race called from his spot on the windowsill. The man glared at Race for a few seconds, his face flushed with anger. Jack and Race exchanged yet another confused glance.

"Anthony Higgens Jr., I asked Jack the question, not you. So keep your mouth shut." Race flinched a little and backed away. He didn't like hearing his real name and he definitely didn't like being told to keep his mouth shut. Part of it was PTSD, part of it was stubbornness and lack of self-control.

That's when Jack decided he had had enough of this strange man. "Don't talk to my brother that way. I don't care if you're the president of the United States. Leave him alone."

"I didn't know he was your brother." The man said, automatically calm. This man had some serious problems. Maybe he just had some mood-swings here and there, maybe he was going through a faze, or maybe there was something deeper, mentally and emotionally connected.

"I don't know who you are, but you don't seem to know as much about me as ya thought ya did."

The man walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Both boys jumped at the sound.

"Who d'ya think that was?" Jack asked after a minute.

"Probably a kidnapper or a cereal killer. You?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "I don't know. But it scares me. How'd he know my name?"

"Kelly!" Snyder yelled up the stairs. Jack exchanged a look with Race before running down the stairs with Race at his heels.

"Jack, this is your father, Daniel Kelly. After a long court case, he won custody over you." Snyder said.

Jack frowned and shook his head. "I don't have a father." And I don't want a father like that, he added in his head.

Daniel smiled. "You've never met me before. I had to leave before you were born."

"So you couldn't come back for any of my seventeen years?"

Race snorted from behind him. "He was probably with some other woman,"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Thank you for reassuring me that my father is not a complete and utter scumbag."

"I'm here to help. You believe that, don't you?" Race asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, sure I do. Just as much as I believe Mr. Snyder is my birth father."

"Boys!" Snyder yelled over them. Daniel had been looking back and forth between the two boys like a tennis match and Snyder looked like he wanted to beat them until kingdom come. "Go pack your things, Jack."

"I'm not going anywhere without Racer. He's my brother." Jack argued.

"If you won custody of him, you should be able to win custody of me, too." Race cut in.

"No Jack. That's not quite how it works." Daniel said. The only reason I can keep you is because I could prove you were my son."

Jack sighed, expecting his father to start hugging him and crying. He exchanged a look with Race over his shoulder. "Mr. Kelly, I'm eighteen. Why are you trying to adopt me now?" he distanced himself from his father and looked at Snyder as he realized that he was old enough to get himself out of this dump. "And why am I still in the foster system? My birthday was midway through the week. I shouldn't be here anymore."

"Yes, but I knew Mr. Kelly was coming to pick you up, so I wanted to make sure you got to see him." Jack translated that to "I want to keep you around longer so I can beat the crap out of you." Racetrack snorted at the obvious lie. "So why does he have to go with his dad? Why can't he just leave the Ref- I mean the group home. Go to Santa Fe like he's always wanted?"

"Because I'm not leaving you here, Racer. Whether you like it or not." He turned to the two older men, "I'm going out on my own. Mr. Kelly, I'm not quite sure if I believe you or not. If I want to see you again, I'll find away. For now, though, I think it's best if you stay away from me and my bruddas."

…

"Hey, Racer." Jack said as he climbed in the window, to Race's room. His roommate was fast asleep.

"Hey, Jackie. Anything new in the real world?" Race asked as he pulled his brother into a hug.

"Katherine Pulitzer wrote an article about the Refuge. We reckon you'll be out within the week."

Race sneezed.

"Bless you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Means a lot"

"I know." Jack smiled at their regular banter. "Don't get sick on me now, Race. You don't have access to my doctoring skills on an everyday basis." He held his hand against the kid's forehead. "Ya ain't got a fever. Yet. Just take care of yourself."

"Okay Jackie. Thanks for being a good mom." Race said, even though both boys knew he liked it when Jack babied him. Jack's smile melted. Race could tell there was a serious topic coming up.

"Race, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have used your real name, or told you to shut up, or yelled at you. I guess I was just trying to play hero again. But the thing is, there was no one willing to play villain. I thought you were, but you were just a victim."

"You're fine, Jack." Race replied. " I guess I'm still a little dramatic when it comes to her."

Jack smiled at his little brother.

"The Spider hasn't hit ya, has he?"

Race hesitated. He didn't want to tell Jack the truth, but he knew he needed to. "He has," Race whispered. Jack's eyes widened. "It's been worse for all of us, now that you aren't around. You were Snyder's favorite. When you left, he started taking it out on us. Particularly me. I think it's because he knows we're close. He can pretend it's you. It hurts, Jackie. I- I want to go home. I want a real home. Someplace where I'm wanted not only by the boys, but by the owner, too."

Jack held onto his brother. "Do you remember the Manhattan House? That was the ideal situation. It was you, me, the rest of the boys, minus Spot. We lived with this old guy, Mr Kloppman. Then we left. I wonder if I can get you back there." When it came down to his biological father and surrogate brother, he would pick the surrogate brother every time.

…

It has been quite a long time since I last updated, and I apologise. I hope I can update more soon.


	7. In Which Race is Gone

Okay guys, new chapter is up. Yay!

Shout outs:

Everything'sGoldenGianna09

MadWorldJamie1316

The last chapter was really just a family moment that I wanted to add in somewhere, but I didn't know where. Sorry if it didn't really seem to fit. I actually combined two short chapters. This time there's a real chapter.

I'm sorry about this dream at the beginning. Someone close to me recently passed away and I needed to write it down. Also, sorry for the wait and the chapters a little shorter than I would've liked. Things have been really rough recently school, family matters, musical practice, etc.

Remember to review!

Race sat down on the chair next to the hospital bed. It was a small room. There was a large bed in the middle that took up most of the space. There were large machines hooked up to the patient that filled up a lot of room, too. There was a window behind the bed. There was a sink and TV mounted to the wall. Two chairs were pushed up against the other wall. Spot sat on the window sill and Crutchie sat next to him, eating a cookie. None of them were crying, although it was a pitiful sight. Jack couldn't get off work. He said he would come later that night, though. Every now and then a blond nurse would come in and check on the girl lying in the hospital bed. Sometimes he would check her oxygen mask, sometimes he would even give her her medication, sending her into a deep sleep, but it made the pain go away. That was the worst part of this whole experience. Race never knew when she would wake up or if she would wake up. They had been there all day and she was still alive, but who knew how long. This was her third week in the hospital, but she wasn't healthy enough to go home and the doctors said she might never be. If only things had been like they were years ago

...

Silent tears rolled down Race's face, etching pathways into the dirt and grime on his face. It was too cold a night to be spending it in the drafty basement.

After Jack's visit weeks before, Race decided it was time to make his first escape attempt.

Snyder had recently started letting the boys go outside and pick the low hanging fruit on the trees in the garden, with supervision, of course. Once, when Race was picking the fruit, he noticed some of the branches of an older tree in the back corner of the wall. It looked like an easy tree to climb. So that night, he began working on the window. It was an old house and the window hadn't been opened in years. Decades, maybe. It seemed to be frozen shut. He had to pry it open by jamming the metal dust pan under it. The screen was a completely different story. Race didn't understand why there needed to be screens on the windows if you couldn't open them anyway, but he didn't ask.

He couldn't force it open as he did with the glass, so instead he had to push through it. It was easier to pop out of the frame than he expected.

There was an old and creaky fire escape under the window, which made Race feel a little more secure about living in the refuge. Not that you could use it in case of a fire anyway, since the window was stuck closed. He took slow, careful steps to make sure the fire escape didn't wake anyone. Especially not Mr. Snyder. Altogether, it took about an hour to get outside and on the ground.

It wasn't the fire escape that woke Snyder up. In fact, Race could've made it out safely leaving them without a clue as to how. But then there was a fox. The fox screamed, waking up Snyder as well as at least fifty percent of the other prisoners. No one knew where it was coming from, so Snyder turned on the light in his room and looked out the window, down at Race, who happened to be in that area at the time.

"Higgens!" He shouted at him. Quicker than Race would've thought possible, two of the guards rushed outside and grabbed him by the upper arms. Race almost laughed at how they needed two guards to contain him. It's not like he was Jack, who needed three. Racer wasn't that strong and he didn't even struggle that much. He would've thought one would be sufficient.

Snyder took him down to the basement, which was more of a torture chamber and promised to deal with him in the morning.

Race lay there, dreading the morning and wishing that Jack had somehow won custody of him in the past month. He seriously doubted it. And even if he had, there was really no way for Jack to force Snyder to hand him over.

Maybe Jack would notice. He tried to check in on him every day, but most times only got in every two or three days.

He didn't remember falling asleep. All he could remember was wishing he had never met Lake. That stupid girl caused all his problems

…

"Katherine," Jack whispered loudly in through the open window. The girl was not stirring. "Katherine!" he finally said a bit louder. Katherine's eyes snapped open and she saw the boy at her window.

"Jack? She wondered as she opened the screen and helped him in. He was dirty and covered in sweat. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. But I can't find Race!"

"He's at the Refuge, remember?"

"No, he's not. I check on him almost every night, but he wasn't there. I even asked some of the boys. They didn't know."

"Did he run away maybe?" Katherine resoned, trying to keep her own panic at a minimum. It must be serious for Jack to even consider coming to Katherine. Or it had to do with her father somehow.

"No. He wasn't with Medda or Weisel." This was the first time Katherine had ever seen Jack this close to tears. Actually, this was one of the first times she had seen Jack this dirty. She had just met the guy.

"Do you have any idea where he could be? Any at all?" she asked him desperately.

"I know exactly where he is. I want to pretend that I don't."

"Where is he?"

"I don't wanna say. Come with me." Katherine gave him a suspicious look. Could she really trust him? "Please." He begged

"Fine."

…

"Guys, this is serious!" Jack begged. He sat at the kitchen table at Medda's house with Crutchie, Katherine, Finch, and Hotshot. Spot said he couldn't make it, so he sent Hotshot to represent him. "Shut up!" he yelled over them. They all listened. "Race wasn't in his room at the Refuge."

They all gasped. They knew exactly what that meant.

"No," whispered Finch.

"So this is what it feels like to want to kill someone." Crutchie muttered.

"I'm calling Spot." Hotshot took his cheap flip-phone out of his pocket and called Spot.

"Jack, tell me what it means!" Katherine begged Jack. She hated being left out.

He's in the basement." Finch spat out. "Snyder's own personal torture chamber."

"I'm sure Jack spent his whole visit down there." Crutchie added

"Not the whole time, just most of it," Jack responded.

"But… But Snyder's not a bad man, is he? I know he's made some mistakes, like not sending you guys to school, but he's not that bad." Katherine protested.

"Oh no," Hotshot said, lowering the phone. "She doesn't know, does she?"

"She's still brainwashed?" Crutchie asked in disbelief.

"Brainwashed? What does that even mean? You're acting like this is some teenage alien movie, but it isn't. You're being ridiculous. nothing can be that bad."

"Oh yes it can." Finch responded angrily.

"It means you still think the high up staff is made up of saints. Well guess what? They aren't perfect. Your fadda is biased, Weisel is neglectant and Snyder is abusive."

"He is?" Katherine asked in astonishment. Maybe things were that bad. "Oh Jack, I had no idea! I knew he was mean, but he beats you? By torture chamber you meant literal torture?"

No one responded, but it sent a clear message.

"What happens in the refuge?"

"First they lock ya in a closet for a day, then they assign you a room but don't put you there yet They starve ya for about a week. But they do give you one piece of bread to last and one cup of water. You're in room twenty. Then you get moved to the room you was assigned to. In my case, there's three boys per room. Racer and I were together.

"Every day, you line up in the hallway for inspection. The Spider walks by with this baton, acting all hoity-toity. He'll check each room and if yours isn't perfect he'll beat ya. Every mornin' in fact, he'd choose some innocent boy to take down to the basement, if there wasn't someone down there already."

"But you said getting put in the basement was the worst. So why was it so common?" Katherine wondered aloud.

"Well it ain't common 'cause he always chose the same kids over and over. I was one of them, because I kept taking Race's turn."

"Who are the others? Maybe they'll help us." Said Spot as he entered the room. Jack stood and spit-shook with him. Hotshot nodded to him and Crutchie and Finch cowered away a little. No one answered his question. "Well?"

"It's just the four of you, isn't it?" Crutchie asked Jack. "you, Spot, Finch and Hotshot?

"Yeah. That's it. No one else was stupid enough to do anything like to get them down there."

"So how do you break in?" Katherine asked.

"You don't." Medda answered, speaking up from her corner. "Look, I hate it as much as you all's, but there's no way to get down into a basement that's completely underground. You need someone on the inside to break him out."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just wait for him to be released?" Katherine asked.

"Who knows how long that will take!" Jack erupted, "like it or not, this is the time to act. I know this don't mean much to you, you don't have much at stake here, but we do. Spot, Crutchie and I… we need Racetrack. He's our brother."

Katherine saw that Jack really meant everything he was saying. Race meant more to him than life itself.

"Besides," Hotshot put in "Race is the comic relief to their little brotherhood- Jack, Spot, Race and Crutchie. I'm sure Crutchie would die of boredom with only these two." He gestured at Jack and Spot. Jack rolled his eyes and Spot punched him lightly. Even though it was meant to be funny, there was a lot of truth to it.

"If we can't break in, how do we get in?" Katherine broke the awkward silence.

"That's why you're here." Jack finally answered


End file.
